


Scorched Earth

by wingedknightRose



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Gen, also me: immediately runs headlong after the first plot bunny to run through my head, attempts at military strategy, attempts at other wartime things, byleth recruited every last one of them, faerghus is hardcore, i do more research for this than i do for school, me: i'm gonna focus on the one fic i've already started before working on another one, snow lions are A Thing, so many faerghus headcanons, that's it that's the fic, the violence isn't actually THAT graphic but like better safe than sorry right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-07 21:31:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21464857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedknightRose/pseuds/wingedknightRose
Summary: "The most formidable army cannot successfully wage a war against an entire nation that has decided to vanquish or die" - Napoleon BonaparteFaerghus resists.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	1. Prologue

Adrestia thought they were ready for Faerghus.

The Kingdom had been declining for years now. Strife and discord had been running rampant, bandits plagued the land, and the nobility struggled to maintain peace. Clearly they were incapable of managing their territory. They needed the Empire to bring order to the land and to free them from their incompetence. They were just too proud to admit it.

The Empire was better prepared. They had more soldiers, more supplies. They were better organized. They had tamed the demonic beasts. Their generals were the greatest, forged in the crucible of the war with Dagda and Brigid. They had already won a decisive victory against the Knights of Seiros and the monster that had been the Archbishop.

It should have been easy. The Blaiddyd line was no more, and the woman that had taken their place had welcomed the Imperial army with open arms. The western lords had wisely capitulated instead of facing annihilation. Only a pair of stubborn eastern lords clinging to past glories dared to challenge them. They should have been crushed with ease, these fools that insisted on fighting a battle they had already lost.

Adrestia thought they were ready for Faerghus.

Adrestia was wrong.


	2. Felix

“General Devin, Sir! The scouts report fire ahead. It appears to be a farming village.”

His commander glanced up at his approach, nodding to acknowledge the words. “Any sign of the cause?”

“None that they could immediately see, Sir. But with what I’ve heard about Faerghus, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was bandits.”

General Devin scoffed at the mention of bandits. Or perhaps he was scoffing at Faerghus. There was no telling. “Take a squad and sweep the remains. Salvage what you can. The more supplies we can pick up as we push into Fraldarius territory, the better.”

“Sir! And if we find survivors?”

“Get them to the mages for some basic healing and then send ‘em to the next town over. We can’t have refugees hanging on.”

“Sir, yes Sir!”

Imperial efficiency saw his men ready to go within minutes of receiving their orders. They hiked towards the village, keeping an eye out for signs of the bandits responsible. They would be better armed and trained, but that didn’t mean they should invite an ambush.

There were no signs of life. No screams. No fleeing livestock. No desperate refugees.

Nothing.

As they approached the burning wreck of a village, they stopped short to survey the damage. It looked like the flames had spared nothing. Not a single building was untouched — even the town hall and church, which were both made of stone, bellowed smoke from their windows. Not even the nearby fields had escaped. Whoever had done this had wanted to be sure that there was nothing left when they were finished.

His men shared murmurs of horror at the total destruction before them.

“Split into groups of five,” he ordered after a moment’s pause to take it all in, “one of you prep for first aid here in case we find survivors. The rest of you, search the wreckage for anything that might be salvaged. And keep an eye out for whoever did this.”

His men saluted and split up. One group stayed just outside the burning wreck, prepared to receive wounded if necessary. Another split off to walk the perimeter of the village, and the third group ventured towards the homes to see if there was anyone trapped within. He took his group down the main street towards small market square. They kicked in the doors to buildings - all closed and locked, oddly enough - and found nothing of note within.

“Sir,” one of the junior cavaliers spoke up after a few minutes of searching, “doesn’t this seem off to you?”

“If you’re asking if I’m bothered by how thorough the bandits have been-”

“But that’s just the thing, Sir,” the cavalier cut him off, waving towards the street with her lance. “If bandits did this, why is it all so…orderly?”

“You call an inferno like this orderly?”

“I don’t - Sir, there’s no bodies. Nothing’s scattered in the streets. None of the buildings look like they’ve been broken into. That’s not how bandits do things, is it?”

He stopped for a moment, gaze swinging around, sharper now. She was right, there were no bodies in the street. No blood splatters, no doors broken in, no smashed windows. What was left of the market stalls stood, empty. There was no sign that there had been any wares there to burn. Add in the complete lack of screaming, crying, or other sounds of the destitute survivors of an attack, and his suspicions skyrocketed. “You think this is an ambush?”

“I don’t know, Sir.” She gripped her lance tighter, nervous at the prospect. The other three also closed in ranks and looked around once more, wary. Fighting in a burning town, when outnumbered - that wouldn’t be an easy battle, especially if they were taken by surprise, and they knew it. “But something is definitely wrong here.”

He considered the situation with a scowl. “…We pull back.”

“Sir?”

“We pull back. If this is an ambush, we’re not going to walk any further into it.”

“What if there are survivors?”

“If there were, we’d’ve heard them by now,” he spun on his heel and began to march right back the way they’d come. “Anyone left in this mess is a charred corpse. Pull out! And keep an eye on our rear!”

It was good that the young cavalier had spoken up before they’d reached the main square. If there was anyplace that was going to be an ambush point in this mess, that was it.

The other groups were likewise confused with the order, but didn’t protest too much. They were all unsettled by this, too.

They returned to the main body of the vanguard, and he went to make his report to the general.

“Well? Anything?”

“No, Sir. Nothing.”

“Nothing? All the stores caught flame?”

“Yes, Sir. The town was completely empty. There were no people, and nothing to salvage.”

General Devin frowned. “Odd. I’d expect bandits to take supplies, but the people?” With a shake of his head, he dismissed the issue. “Double the watch tonight, just in case. Tomorrow we continue our march east.”

“Yes, Sir!”

* * *

“Damn these Faerghus bastards,” General Devin snarled after the most recent report. “How in the flames do they intend to survive winter when they’re burning everything they have?”

He didn’t have an answer. Not after that first burned village, and not after any other. Every one they came across was the same - stripped bare and burned, so that there was nothing left worth taking. It was horrifying, in truth. How did these people hope to survive the swiftly approaching winter without food or shelter? Did they hate the idea of submitting to the Empire so much that they were willing to die in winter’s biting embrace for the mere chance of taking their foes into the flames with them? What sort of people did that?

“There’ve been signs that they’ve carried supplies with them, so they’re probably holding up in the nearby city, Sir.”

“You mean Tania? That’s a trade town, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. Cargo coming from the ports makes its way through Tania and then towards the counties of Galatea and Charon. The city has fortifications, but it’s no castle.”

“So we should plan for a siege, just in case. Very well. That’s probably where all these blasted night raiders are coming from. It’ll be good to pin the bastards in a proper fight. See how brave they feel then.”

* * *

“You can’t come in here. The man needs rest.”

“Apologies, Ma’am, but I’m on orders from the General. I need a debrief immediately, so we can prepare in case something followed him back.”

The woman glared at him, hands folded over her robes, but eventually relented. “If he shows signs of distress, I will throw you out, you understand?”

“Of course, Ma’am. I promise to be as quick as I can.”

“See that you are.”

He was led to the cot in the temporary infirmary they’d set up for the night where the man in question rested. He was awake, which was good, and looked like he’d gotten in a fight with a giant wolf and only barely escaped. Which was why he needed to be debriefed - if it actually had been a giant wolf, they needed to be ready for it. Those things could tear a unit apart if it caught them unprepared.

He drew up a stool and sat next to him, keeping his voice low and calm. “You were one of the men sent to forage, yes?”

“Ye—yeah. I was.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“We were ambushed. By Faerghus.”

“More raids?”

“No, well, yes, but—they weren’t soldiers. They didn’t have much in the way of armor and their weapons were just old iron gear and farming implements. But they came out of the underbrush. Killed Maven and Friedrich before we even knew they were on us. We cut down as many as we could, but we were outnumbered, and they fought like demonic beasts. I managed to break away and run, but I don’t—don’t know what happened to the rest.”

“Are you…are you trying to tell me that you were brought down by _farmers?_”

“I—I know what that must sound like. But they—I’m telling you, they fought as if they weren’t human. I’ve never seen anyone fight so savagely, not even cornered bandits. They didn’t—we would cut one down, and it just made the rest angrier. We’d wound another and they’d keep coming. It was like they weren’t afraid of dying. They—the hate. They hated us so much they didn’t care, just as long as we died too.”

He felt a chill go down his spine. Much as he didn’t want to admit it, that fit with everything else that had been happening. If these people were willing to completely uproot themselves and burn their own homes simply to spite the Imperial forces, why would they fear death when it meant they could take some of their foes with them?

But it didn’t make sense. He’d always heard that Faerghus was a nation of honor. They all but worshiped the idea of it, lived and died by it. What was the honor in this?

“Get some rest. You need it.” It was all he could say, clapping the man on the shoulder as he rose. He nodded at the healers as he left, considering what report to make to the General.

They ended up dispatching a squad of cavalry to see what had happened. They found the bodies of the rest of their squad, stripped of arms and armor, laying haphazardly on the bloodstained ground. Already the carrion were picking at the corpses. There were no Faerghus bodies—apparently the farmers still cared enough to try and bury their own.

There was also nothing left of the forage the men had gathered.

* * *

It only got worse the further into Fraldarius territory they pressed. Detachments sent to nearby villages were slaughtered, caught in traps or rains of arrows or a simple surprise attack from Faerghus raiders. Survivors would get sick and die from the poison that laced the blades and arrowheads. Angry farmers set simple snares to catch foragers unawares, leaving them at the mercy of the beasts of the wild, such as it was.

Moral faltered. Supplies dwindled. The cold began to set in, and with it illness.

But their salvation was at hand. They had reached Tania. The city stood tall, untouched. The gates were open, as if it were just another day. No flames. The men cheered.

He was suspicious. He was not alone. “Be prepared for an ambush,” General Devin had warned, before sending the pegasus detachment in to do a sweep of the city.

They reported nothing, and the order was given to enter. He was placed in charge of one of the groups expected to sweep the city for resistance.

Nothing.

No people. No animals beyond the birds and the rats. _Nothing._

It was eerie.

When he made his report, the general scowled and agreed. “They stripped the city before they left. There’s nothing in the stores.”

“Nothing at all? They took all of it?”

“All of it. I don’t know where these Faerghus bastards are hiding out, but they must have been planning this for quite some time. Moving that many people isn’t an easy task.”

“That means they might be planning to assault us. Without supplies, we won’t be able to hold the city in a siege.”

The general’s scowl deepened. “Don’t I know it. But we can’t pass up the chance at shelter. If I try to tell the men to sleep out in the open again, there’ll be riots.” He rubbed at his chin. “The damned Faerghus haven’t been able to muster up a large enough force to fight us head-on anyways. With the added fortifications, we should be able to force them to retreat again.”

“Sir, don’t you find their constant retreats…worrisome? They’ve never suffered a decisive loss, yet they still pull back.”

“That’s because the cowards know they can’t stand against the full might of Adrestia.” He spat on the ground to emphasize his disgust. “They talk big about honor, but are they willing to fight an honorable battle and settle this once and for all? Of course not. Now, go set up patrols. I don’t want anything to take us by surprise tonight, you got that?”

* * *

“Sir! Fire in the southern quarter!”

“What? What caused it?”

“No idea, sir. Best I can tell is someone got careless.”

“Oh, for—is anything being done?”

“Yes, sir. A bucket brigade has already formed and are attempting to fight it.”

“Good. Find out which fool is trying to kill us all and bring him to me.”

“Sir!”

He watched the reporting soldier go, turning back towards the map he was leaning over. He had a decent grasp of Faerghus geography - he always had loved maps - so the general had him pouring over those maps to provide suggestions about their next move. He turned to grab his pen and make a note, when he caught a bright spot out of the corner of his eye.

Glancing up, his eyes widened when he realized he was looking at another fire. “Sir!” Once he had the general’s attention, he gestured towards it, and was rewarded with a colorful bout of language that only an old soldier could be capable of.

“What in the flames—”

What in the flames indeed, he thought, watching as another fire sprung to life to their right. And then came calls from soldiers behind them, warning them of yet another fire.

This was a trap.

“Get everyone up and moving!” General Devin shouted, “I want us out of this damned city as soon as possible! If you see anyone that isn’t one of us, you cut off the bastard’s legs and drag him to me, you hear?!”

The mad scramble to escape began. They had barricaded the gates, anticipating raids in the middle of the night, as the Faerghus had become so fond of as of late. But this…he felt like they should have expected this, but even now, living it, it felt so unreal. This was a trading city. A center of commerce. A place of wealth. And they were_ burning_ it. Their own city, set aflame by their own hands.

What else were these people willing to do?

“I thought there were no people left in this damned city!” General Devin was spitting, even as he grabbed the maps and plans and threw them in a chest that he slung under his arm. No use leaving those behind and hoping they burned, after all.

“There’s one!” “Get her!” “You Faerghus bastard!”

The cacophony spilled out from a nearby alleyway, and a single figure darted out from it and towards another, kicking in a door and throwing a lit torch inside. The house caught instantly, with an intensity that shouldn’t have been possible. They must have set this up beforehand, he realized. From the very beginning, this had been their plan.

General Devin advanced on the woman, grinning viciously. She turned and faced him with a cool expression, the Crest of House Fraldarius stitched into her thick woolen coat. “You and I are gonna have a lovely little chat, miss,” the general said, his friendly words undermined by his murderous tone.

She scoffed at him, and then vanished in a flash of faith magic. A rescue spell. They had powerful bishops on their side, which explained how they got in in the first place, and why none seemed to be getting caught. Warp and rescue.

Those spells weren’t the most common. Where would they have gotten enough people that knew them to pull this off?

There was no time to think on it. The fires were spreading fast between buildings that had been prepared to burn as easily as possible. They couldn’t hope to fight it. They could only flee.

No raid waited for them when they made it out of the burning ruin of Tania. He didn’t know if he should be grateful for that or not.

The next day, General Devin gave the command he’d sworn he’d never give—they were to fall back and regroup with other Imperial forces.

* * *

Their retreat was harried constantly by Faerghus forces. They managed to divert away from the path they’d originally taken, in hopes of securing more supplies, but found little more than greater expanses of burning fields. How did these people hope to survive the winter with no food? Did they hate the idea of submitting to the Empire so much that they would rather starve themselves in winter’s unforgiving embrace just to have the chance to take their foes with them? It was unfathomable, how far they were willing to go.

Desertions rose, and often the bodies of the deserters were found later, murdered by Faerghus scouts or opportunistic peasants, left for the beasts of the wild to feast upon. Illness began to spread faster than the healers could keep up with. Supplies were well and truly running low, and they had ended up resorting to killing and eating their horses and pegasi. The cold bit at them no matter how they attempted to shield themselves from it. Their only real hope was to make it back to Empire-controlled land and meet up with the fresh forces there. He might have abandoned the army himself, except he knew that it would be a death sentence to do so. He only hoped that it wasn’t a death sentence to stay.

The raids drove them further south, towards the highlands that were the border between Fraldarius, Galatea, and Charon. The harsh terrain slowed their already crawling pace.

Not that they got very far.

The lack of recent raids should have been their first clue. The Faerghus troops had not let up since the incident at Tania, why would they stop now? Did they think they had already won? To be fair, they were probably right.

There was no other warning. One moment, they were hiking across the highlands, trying to find a place that would provide some semblance of shelter from the biting wind for the night, and the next thing they knew it was nothing but death and screaming.

He watched in horror as the great beasts leaped into their midst, tearing through people with claws and fangs that rent iron. Pearly white fur and great manes became marred with the blood of his brethren. Rumbling growls and bone-chilling roars cut through the screams and shouts. Snow lions. The symbol of House Blaiddyd and Faerghus as a whole. He couldn’t believe it. He’d heard stories of them, of course. Of Loog, King of Lions, riding one into battle against the Empire. Of their beauty and ferocity, of how a pride could decimate a regiment of knights without taking a loss. He had always thought the stories exaggerated.

Now he knew that wasn’t the case. If anything, they_ understated_ the truth.

He didn’t try to stand and fight. He fled. Distantly he heard General Devin give the order for others to do the same.

The lions gave chase.

* * *

The few survivors stumbled away, shell-shocked and reeling. The lions had eventually had their fill of slaughter, ceasing their chase in lieu of devouring the fallen. It wasn’t a comfort—they would get hungry again eventually, and they would be able to outrun them all. They had no food, and the cold of night was setting in.

It was almost a relief when the Faerghus raiders appeared out of the darkness.

They fought. They fought with everything they had, fueled by the desperate frenzy that was the desire to survive. But they were weak and scattered and outmatched. There was no victory for them.

He was cut down and left to bleed in the snow, shivering. Blearily he watched as the general spat curses upon his foes, flailing with his ax. A single swordsman walked up, calm and composed as could be. He looked so young, yet his amber eyes were as cold as the icy air around them. His gear was of higher quality than the others, the clasp on his cloak silver etched with the shield of Fraldarius.

He slew the general without taking a single blow. He said nothing as Devin choked and died. No acknowledgment of his opponent. He merely gave the order to search the bodies.

“My lord, we shouldn’t tarry. Even if the lions don’t take advantage of the free meal, there are plenty of things that will.”

“I know. But search them all the same. Any information about the Empire’s movements is useful.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The young swordsman flicked the blood of the general from his blade before sheathing it.

_“Alright,”_ he murmured to himself, _“next.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, yes, I am taking a great deal of inspiration from Napoleon's invasion of Russia, why do you ask?
> 
> There's a lot of headcanons that went into this, including about how far west the Fraldarius territory actually spans. It's...pretty damn far. Otherwise this strategy wouldn't be much good lol.
> 
> ...I have spent a great deal of time and effort fleshing out my own personal hcs of Faerghus, considering I'll likely never share them. Ah well!


End file.
